Page 54 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

I nodded and followed Joe to the tack room, leaving Dalton standing there looking like he was contemplating making a run for it. The saddle was heavier than I expected, but I managed to haul it over to where Honeycrisp stood patiently.

Dalton crossed his arms and took a step back. “I’m good watching from here.”

I rolled my eyes at the big tough pilot. “Come on, don’t be a baby. She’s gentle as a lamb.”

“That lamb weighs about twelve hundred pounds and has hooves the size of dinner plates.”

I rolled my eyes and put the saddle on. When it was secure, I turned to look at him. Then gestured for him to step up.

“Hard pass.”

“You fly into literal fires for a living, but you’re afraid of a sweet old mare?”

“Fire won’t buck me off.”

“Neither will Honeycrisp. Will you, girl?” I cooed, scratching behind her ears. She nickered softly in response.

Martha and Joe pulled up some chairs to watch.

“Honeycrisp hasn’t kicked anyone in five years!” Martha called.

“Five years isn’t that long, Martha,” Dalton muttered.

He sighed, bitching under his breath, but finally placed one boot in the stirrup and swung his leg over like a pro—until, of course, he tried to sit straight.

Honeycrisp stood still, every bit the good girl she was, but Dalton wobbled in the saddle, unable to get balanced properly. I patted Honeycrisp’s neck. “It’s okay. He’s a newbie. It’s not your fault.”

“If you have to tell the damn thing it’s okay, I’m thinking it might not be okay,” Dalton said.

The horse shifted, just a little, lifting one leg, then the other to get comfortable.

Dalton acted like the horse was a mechanical bull, set to full chaos. He held on, nearly falling to one side and then correcting so hard he almost fell off the other.

I choked on a laugh. “Grip with those thighs. I know how strong they are.”

Martha giggled and covered her mouth. Joe coughed into his hand, trying and failing to look like he hadn’t heard. I didn’t mean for it to sound sexual. Anyone with eyeballs could see the man was built like a tank and those thighs could crack walnuts. He was all muscle. And just thinking about those thighs had my body quivering.

Dalton shot me a look that promised retribution, which only made me grin harder. Whatever. After the hell he’d put me through in the simulator, he deserved all of this and more. Being shoved out of your comfort zone was difficult for everybody.

Eventually, he managed to center himself. His long legs hung a little awkwardly in the stirrups, but he looked like he had some clue about what he was doing. Progress.

“Okay,” I said, climbing into Mac’s saddle. “We’ll keep it simple. Nice and slow.”

Joe had gone into the house and came back with two glasses of lemonade. He and his wife settled into their chairs in the shade.

“There’s a trail that will lead you through the orchard,” Martha said. “It’s an easy ride. And beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I turned to Dalton. “Just give a little nudge with your heels.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

“I didn’t say kick her. Just a little nudge. Click your tongue.”

I demonstrated and got Mac moving. Honeycrisp seemed to get the idea and followed behind me until the trail widened a bit.

I’d forgotten how much I missed riding. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting muscle memory take over. My body remembered how to move with the horse, how to anticipate the rhythm, how to find that perfect balance between control and surrender. It was like flying in a way, except instead of being above the earth, I was connected to it through the magnificent creature beneath me.